


harsher mercies

by lightbrigade (mirrorchord)



Category: Original Fiction - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Rape Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirrorchord/pseuds/lightbrigade
Summary: But sometimes, in the quiet darkness of her own mind, she wanted more than anything to embrace it. To revel in how much smaller she was than another person, how fragile she could be in their hands.





	harsher mercies

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short piece exploring personal motivations and experiences of kink. I may or may not continue it.

She had always been little. Shorter, lighter, smaller-framed than all her classmates as a child, and as she grew into adulthood, it became increasingly clear that she would stay that way. She would always be smaller and weaker than most, just by virtue of biology and luck.

It became something she ignored, defying her own weakness as though sheer will would allow her to overcome it. And most of the time, it did. If she couldn’t push through with stubbornness or hard work, she learned to admit her own failure with pride, laughing at herself so others couldn’t do it first. Most of the time, she dared anyone to challenge her.

But sometimes, in the quiet darkness of her own mind, she wanted more than anything to embrace it. To revel in how much smaller she was than another person, how fragile she could be in their hands. To have that be something they acknowledged and desired. Even the thought of that vulnerability was scary and intimate, a private secret she worked constantly to conceal.

So when he said, one day, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it would be really easy to rape you,” her mouth went dry. But what she was feeling wasn’t quite fear. She had absolutely no inkling that he would ever do such a thing. It was just an observation. But a charged one, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew. If he was pushing her, testing her, on purpose.

She laughed it off. But she wasn’t sure if her embarrassed agreement sounded appropriately turned off or if it went too breathy and weak with desire. God, she was pathetic. Pathetic and desperate for a knowing touch, a look of recognition that would shoot through her like a bolt of heat, leaving her weak-kneed and unable to meet his eyes.

He would force her to look at him, she imagined. A strong, inexorable hand under her jaw, tilting her chin up with paradoxical gentleness and flaying her naked and vulnerable with his gaze. Forcing her to reveal, to admit how she trembled with desire at the promise of violence in his eyes.

“I know,” she would say, laughing weakly, and he would cut away her last chance at pretense.

“Do you?” No trace of laughter in his voice. Only frank, serious curiosity, a dark undercurrent to his tone reminding her with sudden clarity how easily he could prove it. How instantaneously his grip could turn harsh. There, breathing shallowly in his hands, she was at his whim, and she knew it.

He knew it too. She could tell from the way his gaze turned sharp and predatory. And her traitorous body succumbed to a rush of arousal, tingling and warm.

“Yes,” she said, and there was no doubt this time how she meant it. Her voice was all helpless invitation.

He slid his hand around to grip the back of her neck, thumb squeezing briefly at her throat before leaving her lightheaded with the ghost of a chokehold. She went lax, gaze dropping automatically to stare at nothing, unable to think except for his grasp on her.

“I thought so,” he said. His voice sounded satisfied and far above her, like she was underwater and he was the only thing in her whole world. She felt held in a timeless moment of thoughtless, suspended pleasure.

She could not have resisted a single thing he did to her in that moment, and she knew it. And it was the most exciting thing she had felt in a long time.

He let her go, leaving her almost staggering with the loss. A distinct sense of embarrassment seeped in along with the clarity of her surroundings.

“Shit,” she began automatically, “I’m sorry,” before cutting herself off at the sight of his growing smirk. Her first thought was, _he’s laughing at me._ Then his face softened in amusement.

“You’re good, girl,” he said, gentle and reassuring, his tone completely at odds with the strength of his grip only moments ago. He ruffled her hair as though nothing had happened. “I know how it is.”

She took a breath, let it out, and tried to shake her head and apologize again, if only to restore some semblance of normalcy to the situation.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “I pushed you. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

“Yeah, well...” she said ruefully, and shrugged. “Now you know.”

He grinned and smacked her on the shoulder. “I sure do.” And he turned the TV back on, without a care in the world.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, shook her head wonderingly, and watched the movie.


End file.
